


Caring for Feral Cats and other beasts

by Tea42



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tevinter (Dragon Age) Bashing, Tevinter Culture and Customs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 03:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea42/pseuds/Tea42
Summary: I just finished DA II. I kept thinking Fenris seemed more feline than lupine and I thought to myself - what if cat-person Anders had that intrusive thought? How would that small change in perception effect things? This takes place early on and between big events (After Karl and before Handriana).





	1. An Idea Takes Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline for major events of Anders and Fenris: After Karl and before Hadriana.

It was all Merrill’s fault, blasted Blood Mage, not that she would have any idea of the troubles she caused. Oh no, considering consequences was not her strong suit.

It all started about a month back. Hawk had talked him into joining him on an excursion to the Wounded Coast and they had ended up rooting slavers out from a secret passage in a familiar cave.

They peered down the two tunnels that twisted deeper in the earth. The torchlight did not illuminate far down either but it did cast uncanny shadows on each of his companions’ faces as they paused at the fork in the path. Hawke twirled fingers through his spikey beard as he considered which path to take. Merrill was distracted, examining the glowing fungi formations. Fenris stalked about in the shadows with look on his face that screamed ‘chronic constipation’.

Anders’ mind had drifted to his manifesto. Surely if Andraste meant for mages to be locked up with the key thrown away as prisoners she would have said so plainly. No, it was ‘magic is meant to serve man, not to rule over him’. The mages in Kirkwall’s Circle were hardly in a position to use magic for the greater wellbeing of the general public. Therefore…

His thoughts were interrupted by a small giggle so out of place in its cheeriness in the gloom it could only belong to Merrill.

“What are you laughing at”, Fenris rumbled crossly.

“Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking about your name”, Merrill replied teasingly.

“What about it?” Fenris asked impatiently.

“Well, you don’t really act like a wolf. You’re more like a big, angry cat.” She replied.

“A _feral_ cat then”, Anders added with a crooked grin.

That earned a torrent of Tavene only pieces of which Anders recognized –all curses. This was followed by Fenris prowling off with an angry scowl, "Mages!"

At the time Anders had laughed quite hard. He was no longer laughing. Merrill’s seemingly benign comparison of Fenis to a cat had stuck in the back of Anders’ mind and he found himself musing on it with random observations of the elf: his aversion to touch, his habit of walking softly on the balls of his feet, how he would arch his back when upset, the way he would absently play with things with the claws of his gauntlet when he was a bit into his cups.

Anders kept his thoughts to himself of course, they were not exactly fond of one another and the elf’s apparent instability let Anders imagine the mildest of insult could result in a glowing fist around his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I earn no money on this and do not claim the characters as my own. I use dialog from the game on occasion.


	2. Wicked Grace Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders' musings have unexpected effects

One evening, several weeks after the misadventure in the caves, Anders found himself playing cards in the Hanged Man with his companions after a particularly exhausting day in the clinic. Dragonfire Pox had been ravaging Darkdown, hitting the very young hardest. Anders’ sleep deprived brain was prone to wander: If only there were some way to prime a person’s body to guard against a particular disease before exposure... Alas, no such advanced magic existed.

Incredibly, not a single child had died on Anders’ watch. Anders shuttered to think how many would have succumbed to the disease without his magic.  Even with magical healers, Dragonfire Pox usually caused fatalities in healthy populations of children. The malnourished little ones of Darktown were decidedly _not_ a healthy population.

It had finally calmed down. Lirene assured him she would tend to those still quarantined in the clinic and she swore she would send for him if anything emergent happened. The stern woman had practically thrown him out, making him promise eat something and get a full night’s sleep before he even thought about relighting the lantern outside the clinic.

So there he sat, halfway through his third bowl of The Hanged Man’s questionable stew. His sleep deprived brain struggling to focus on his cards instead of the way Fenris delicately scratched a claw of his gauntlet behind his ear reminded him of Sir Pounce A Lot. He turned his attention back to the table least his gaze were observed.

Unbelievably, the idle musings had an unexpected benefit: he was actually winning at wicked grace, much to the dismay of his companions.  Perhaps his distraction coupled with his fatigue had subdued his usual tells. He had managed to bluff his way to an unfamiliarly large pile of coin. He added a few of them to the current pot.

Only Hawk, Varric, and Fenris remained in the game and they were all getting low on coin.

“Well Blondie, looks like it’s your lucky night”, Varric said with a smile as he folded his cards to the table.

“For a healer you’re really good a bleeding me dry, Anders. I don’t suppose I could wager something else, say the spoils from my last trip to the coast?” Hawk asked distractedly as he smiled wolfishly at Isabella.

“I do not need another pair of torn trousers Hawk”, Anders replied. That received some laughs from his friends. Even Fenris’s ever present frown softened a bit.

“Oh, this has potential. If you are going to play for clothing you should make it interesting and play strip grace”, Isabella said with a salacious gleam in her eyes.

“What would you suggest, Anders?” Hawk asked as he leaned in to whisper something into Isabella’s ear about ‘playing his card right’ that earned him smile and dark fingers carding through his beard.

“I’ve heard it said time is money, how about you wager your tomorrow afternoon? It’s quieting down but I could really use another set of hands in the clinic.” Anders proposed.

“I believe I will be otherwise engaged, I’ll call it a night”, Hawk replied and folded his cards on the table. He and Isabella stood and meandered towards her room. Aveline rolled her eyes as they left.

“Fenris, will you also be yielding to me?” Anders asked knowing it would anger the elf. It very much did. Fenris hunched over his cards, ears lowered, and looked for all the world like an alley cat ready to unleash scratchy mayhem.

“You are bluffing Mage. I will continue, draw the next card.” Fenris growled.

Anders turned card over: the angel of death.

Fenris presented his hand: a pair of songs and a pair of knights.

“Let’s see what you’ve got Blondie”, Varric grinned as he looked up from his quill and paper.

“Don’t come in hung over tomorrow”, Anders said revealed four serpents. Anders and Varric laughed heartily at the slightly stunned look on Fenris’s face.

“Well that was an unexpected game”, Aveline said with a small smile over her ale.

“If it makes you feel any better you can just think of it as helping some of the poorest children in Kirkwall, not helping me.” Anders offered the elf with grin.

“That is…better, I suppose. I will see you tomorrow then” Fenris replied.

“Since you’ll be going through Lowtown on your way would you mind picking up a few things, for the children”, Anders asked with as much humble hope as he could muster and slid a portion of coins of towards the grumpy elf.

“I’m to run errands then?” Fenris glowered.

“It would be part of your time, minus the delightful company of course”, Anders lazily motioned to himself. “I would think you’d be please at that”.

“Very well Mage”, Fenris said as he gathered to coins into a small pouch “What are the items required?”

Anders beamed.

“Equal parts milk & cream, sugar, salt and beans of the vanilla orchid if Lady Elegant has them. Tell her it’s for 5 children and a few adults, she’ll take care of the proportions” Anders answered.

Later that evening Anders smiled to himself after he conferred with the volunteers watching over the sleeping children and retired to the small living quarters behind the clinic. It had been a very unexpected night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as if Wicked Grace were like poker but then I learned that there are actual rules to the game so I decided to make what they are playing 'house' variant of wicked grace. This chapter is coming out on the heels of the first because I was 1/2 way through when I posted the first. It takes me a while to throw caution to the wind and ignore that little voice that tells me everything I write is crap. I'll shoot for chapter 3 to be out next week if this is at all enjoyable.


	3. Clinic Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris shows up at the clinic as per the bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my lovelies, I did not have as much work as I hoped this weekend but I least I took out my frustration by writing! This chapter is a bit longer. The Kudos and comments are very motivating! There is some cursing but there is only naughtiness if you have Victorian sensibilities.
> 
> Alas! I somehow left out a paragraph I will be referencing later! It was right before they make the treat.

Anders hummed happily to himself as he worked over his table by candlelight in the dimmed clinic. He had just reexamined each of the remaining children and reassuring progress was being made in each case. He and the last volunteer had reapplied a salve to sooth the itchy red speckled rashes.

They were all napping now. He had even sent the last weary volunteer home to rest. The clinic was very quiet, so the sudden clatter outside the door seemed thunderous.

 _“Fasta vass_!” the unmistakable baritone startled Anders from his work mixing herbs and extracts for the children’s afternoon treatment. He grinned as a disgruntled Fenris stalked in clutching several parcels stalked angrily into the room. His shoulders were hunched and tips of his gauntlets puncturing the burlap sacks.

“Mage, _why_ is there a bowl of milk in front of your door?”, Fenris didn’t so much ask as accuse incredulously.

Anders eyes traveled down. Fenris’s feet and ends of his leggings were soaked. The ever present dust of dark town had caked about them and he twitched his toes in irritation. A sudden bark of a laugh escaped Anders before he could suppress it.

“I’ve been trying to attract a stray cat, _you_ have been my only success so far.” Anders chuckled. Fenris was _not_ amused.

With Fenris glaring in that ominous way. Anders realized the children were now awake and staring at the strange yelling elf in that quiet fear particular to growing up in dangerous conditions. Before he had put so many escapes to his name, teaching the younger Apprentices in the circle was one of the duties of circle life that was actually somewhat fun. He had learn a thing or two about handling children.

Anders forced himself to move along in a theatrically cheery manor “I’m sorry Fenris. Please set those over hear and we’ll get you cleaned up”, Anders motioned to the table and with a grin addressed the children, “Ser Fenris has brought you all a scrumptious treat but you have to take your medicine first”. He said with an exaggerated smile and comical wag of the finger for good measure.

It worked. The five little concerned and red-spotted faces melted into hopeful grins. Even Fenris seemed a bit less homicidal when he noted their audience. Fenris hurriedly placed the parcels on the shelf beside his work table. 

“You are going to have to take off your gauntlets and chest piece.” Ander said.

Of course Fenris protested, “I will not be made vulnerable in the depths of Darktown”.

Anders smiled, “In the last two weeks I’ve treated greater than half the children of Darktown and a sizable number from Lowtown and the Alienage. However much you look down on them, these people do not forget that. You are safer here then that condemnable mansion of yours. You are going to be helping me care for squirmy, sickly children. These,” Anders made a vague wave to Fenris’s gear, “are _not_ appropriate for the task. I won’t waste time arguing. If you don’t want to honor the bet you are free to go. Otherwise, do what I say”.

Fenris just gave a stony faced stare for a moment, then averted his eyes as he began undoing the bindings on a gauntlet. “I will honor the bet Mage”, he said coolly.

 “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Anders sighed and motioned to an unused cot. On his way he leaned into whisper, “could you _try_ not to frighten the children?” Then Anders went off to gather some cloths and water.

When he returned he noticed how Fenris was hunched over, looking at his feet. Without his spiky armor he looked much smaller. His posture, instead of looking predatory, made him seem uncomfortably out of place, almost sheepish. Anders’ healer’s instincts kicked in and he stooped down to be more at eye level to the elf.

“Here you are”, Anders handed over the bowl of water and cloths and tried to sound reassuring “while you clean up I’ll finish up the blend for the medicine. Then you can help me give it out and we can mix up the surprise”. Anders grinned.

“Fine”, Fenris answered flatly, but his mossy eyes did not seem so gloomy. They really were quite beautiful. Anders turned away from Fenris and that thought quickly.

At least he wasn’t scaring the children anymore Anders thought to himself as he returned to his work table. The children had livened up and were talking to each other more than coughing now.

A few moments later a deep voice just behind him asked, “Why aren’t you using magic?”.

Anders startled and the knife slipped, grazing his finger and bit out under his breath, “Andraste’s flaming ass-perations!” He added at the last second when his eye met those of Nonna, the tiny red haired elvhen girl closest to him. He made a silly face to make her giggle.

He turned back to Fenris. “Someone should put a bell around your neck", he gruffed at the elf.

“The one that tries would find themselves missing a hand”, Fenris answered. Anders turned back to his work with an exasperated sigh.

Anders started in a ramble with the excess speed and energy from being surprised. “To answer your question: In healing, as with many things, magic isn’t always the _best_ answer if it even _is_ an option. Herbalism is actually often the best treatment when it comes to illnesses.” Anders paused for a breath. It was cathartic to rant and he felt his composer return. With a softer tone he added, “In Darktown I never know what horrible illness or injury might walk through the door requiring all my mana at once. Sometimes even using elemental magic to heat my tea would be wasteful. Conserving mana can mean the difference between life and death down here”.

Fenris only offered a pensive grunt that managed to seem begrudgingly accepting.

“Those cloths should be dry, could you please take them down and fold them?” Anders quietly asked while motioning behind him.

After a pause Fenris gave a curt nod and went about it.

Anders finished preparing the mixture of herbs and liquids. He added the herbs to a large tea pot on the table and crossed to the back room to retrieve the kettle that had heated over the fire to brew the infusion, leaving it to cool to a good temperature before pouring while he gathered mugs. Once it had steep just the right amount of time. He poured the brew and added four drops of the elixir to each cup.

“Fenris, the medicine is ready. Help me pass it out before it loses its effectiveness”, Ander called out.

When Fenris walked over Anders leaned in close to whispered, “You take Samuel and Ranna near the door. If they try to get out of it tell them they are the oldest so they have to show the others how to be brave”. Fenris stiffened at the proximity but nodded and walked a bit briskly to his charges.

Anders busied himself with the other three children. Adras, the quiet elvhen boy with mouse brown hair, drank quickly without a fuss. Luca, the rambunctious human child with missing front teeth had to be dared into it but did not take long to drink.

That left little Nonna who was so young she didn’t fully understand what the medicine would do. She had a special place in his heart as she had been one of the more difficult cases, the closest to losing. He had nearly passed out while healing her while her mother cried beside them. Eventually the high fever that earn the pox its name calmed, the blue tinge to her lips faded, and she was breathing without a gurgling, crackling sound. She worked herself into a coughing fit. Anders scooped the young girl up, rocked her, and sang softly to her until she calmed down. He whispered reassurances until she finished her dose.

He felt like he was being watched, but when he looked up Samuel and Ranna were making faces at each other, Adras had laid down and closed his eyes, and Fenris was vigorously washing cups. Maybe a bit too vigorously.

Anders put Nonna down after one last snuggle. He put the last cup beside Fenris without a word and silently moved next to him at the worktable to unpack the parcels. He mixed the ingredients from memory in a large, heavy bowl. Anders turned to Fenris who seemed to be drying the last cup.

“Fenris, if you are finished I could use your help”, said Anders.

Fenris stepped over to the table and looked confused at the contents of the bowl.

“What is this?” he questioned.

“Right now it’s a mess. When we are done it will be a delightful thing called ‘Iced Cream’. Any mage with a smidge of elemental magic commends this recipe to heart once tasted. I will be applying a bit of elemental ice magic to the bowl. I need you to stir it slowly while it thickens up”, Anders answered and handed Fenris a large wooden spoon.

“Watch that you don’t give me a frost nip”, Fenris replied dubiously.

“Power is useless without control” Anders returned with a lopsided grin. He held his hand out facing each as they began emanating cold. The air between them distorted with the chill. A few tiny crystals of ice formed from the vapor in the air and flurried out. Anders felt one kiss his cheek. A larger one landed on the tip of Fenris’s nose, the white stark against his darker complexion before it melted away.

“Right then. Let’s get to it”, Anders nodded at the bowl.    

It worked perfectly. Fenris was obviously trying to hide his interest as the liquid changed. Anders portioned it out into the cleaned cups while Fenris passed them to the children. The children’s reactions were so happy it even pulled a smile from the dower elf.

When Fenris walked back the table he looked confused at a sixth cup sitting on the table. While Anders was licking the serving spoon clean.

“That one’s for you”, Anders answered the silent question. He kept himself facing away from the elf. He smile at the notion that this was so similar to the techniques he would use to charm a stray cat. He spared a sidelong glance to see Fenris giving a cautious lick to a bit of cream on his spoon. The elf’s eyes widen at the first taste and licked up the rest of the cream before going for another spoonful. Anders felt himself flush and bit down on the spoon.

Retreat seemed a reasonable option at this point and so he left the melting traces of the iced cream to walk over to the medical supplies which were at least not directly beside the elf. Unfortunately it offered a more direct view.

Anders worried his bottom lip between his teeth and quickly bent his head as feigned preoccupation with rolling bandages in an effort to hide the blush he could feel burning from throat to the tip of his ears. Damn his fair complexion, he was probably red as a fire mine glyph. This was rapidly getting out of hand and would no doubt end with a lyrium tattooed hand crushing his heart. Fortunately the owner of said hand was very much preoccupied. A sly glance had him grinning for an instant before returning the abusing his bottom lip. The bandage was coiled to haphazardly so he unwounded it and began again. He hadn’t been this flustered since that one time Hawk had flirted with him before Isabella had captured his heart.

“Andraste's flaming knicker weasels, I’m so fucked” he whispered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris 'Nightingale' he is not. I hope this was enjoyable. I think I will be going a bit further then I thought. Four more chapters should finish it. The next chapter will be Fenris POV so angst ahoy! Also it may get a bit sexy. I've never written anything like that before. I may need you to fetch the smelling salts.


	4. A Private Sort of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gets drunk alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my lovelies for the kudos and kind comments :) 
> 
> A thousand apologies! I accidentally left out the one paragraph in the last chapter that I reference directly in this one. I edited it back in and it's directly before they make the ice cream if you want to peak back at it.
> 
> As I said after the last chapter, this one is Fenris POV and thus it's going to have different tone then the first 3 chapters. Angst Ahoy! I really wanted to explore an idea I had about Teventer culture that I haven't really seen anywhere I have added new tags because of it. I will have some amusing notes at the end of the chapter.

Fenris kicked an already broken chair to pieces as he walked along the hallways from the cellar back to his bed chambers. The wine did relax him, letting him turn his thoughts from the most unpleasant things that dominated his attention. It was not working. Possibly because his thoughts were not altogether unpleasant. In fact it was the increased pleasantness that alarmed him and had him stumbling about to fetch another bottle of wine.

In a chamber adjacent to the main hall he uncorked the bottle by phasing his gauntlet tips through the glass neck. He took a long draw straight from the bottle. As he drank he caught his own ghostly reflection in the dusty, cracked mirror on the far wall. There were no mirrors in his sleeping chamber, at least none that had not been shattered. He walked over to it.

It was large decorative mirror, meant to impress and make the room seem grander than it was. He wiped a haphazard patch of clarity onto the surface, leaning against it to stare at his own face. He was so close that his features quickly began to distort and shift in the dim light. Perhaps it was the wine.

He backed away a step and regarded himself. He understood intellectually that many found him…attractive. He had been pleased but confused when Hawk had voiced his interested.

It had taken him some time to realize the beauty ideal of Tevinter was very particular when compared to Thedas at large. It was well known that in the Tevinter Imperium magical power was of paramount importance both politically and in the intense selection of spouses in the endless quest for more powerful progeny. What was not quite so well-known was how that power was universally seen as _attractive_. Of course physical fitness and prowess was admired, as too were cunning and wit. Any trait, which gave an advantage in that kill or be killed society was attractive.

However, those traits were not the source of Fenris’s confusion. The general Teventer ideal of physical beauty was so subtle Fenris had never really heard it put into words. It wasn’t until he escaped that he began to examine and question.

What it amounted to was that human specific traits were desired, traits such as greater height and broad shoulders. Danarius had once casually mentioned how Fenris’s father had been selected for breeding due to his unusual height. For males, facial and body hair were archetypal. Few human males of any station would choose to have a completely smooth face and of course elves were unable to grow such hair.

Fenris smashed the mirror with his gauntleted fist and stalked off towards his sleeping chamber.

Knowing a thing was so and feeling it to be so were two separate things. Fenris still regarded himself as attractive for an elf in as much as he was tall for an elf. That is on a whole, not very. It had been disorienting to be sought out by a man that fit the Teventer ideal so much more.

That was of course before Hawk had taken up with Isabella. It seemed Fenris was _not_ the only one that had caught his eye after all. A question Hawk had skillful flirted around.

It was disappointing. Yet Fenris bore neither of them ill will.

He entered his room and began divesting his armor at his bedside starting with his gauntlets. When he was finished with the armor he took another long pull from the wine.

Isabella was what might be a friend, he wasn’t quite sure due only recently contemplating the concept. The pirate’s aggressive sexuality occasionally made Fenris uncomfortable, but he had spent enough time around her to recognize the defiance in it. He did not completely understand it, but it seemed for her it was a way to demonstrate she was free. He respected that, even admired it. Though he could never see himself quite as _free_ as she was with his affections, the idea of one day letting someone close was still…appealing.

Fenris had dared think on such things with Hawk. It had never interested him before. As a slave, sex had never been of his own will. He had thought those experiences had quashed any interest in him long ago and to have them awakened was alarming but ultimately empowering. He had claimed his body as his own. Even more than that, it was a revelation that he could imagine better for himself. It was a private sort of freedom that surprised him.

Now that imagination was getting the better of him.

The Mage.

He was both powerful and beautiful. Both would have been coveted in Tevinter.

Sometimes the waves of magical power would hang tensely in the air like the scent before a summer storm. It would send a thrill up Fenris’s spine and that had made it all the more appalling. It felt different, perhaps the mage was not deceiving in his revulsion of blood magic. Still, it was galling that he would react that way to any magic.

Fortunately the way the mage ran his fool mouth overshadowed his physically attractiveness. He was a narrow minded, sharp tongued, would be Magister. Just like any mage he craved power and would undoubtedly do terrible things eventually to gain it. Worse still he was an abomination, an abomination in denial, a dangerous creature to be sure.

Yet recently the mage’s mouth had been quieter. Oh, the blonde could still be baited but his retorts did not usually bite as sharp. The mage even show slight signs of deference to Fenris. It was confusing. Fenris had sometimes found himself forgetting who, no, _what_ he was with. It was a viper lulling him before a strike.  It was dangerous.

Now stripped to his tunic and leggings, Fenris sat on the bed. He bunched the front of the loose tunic he wore and brought it to his face. It smelled of the clinic. It was a minor miracle the clinic did not reek of chokedamp, mildew and rotting fish like the rest of Darktown. It had an herbal freshness with heavy notes of elfroot. It was the same scent that clung to the healer. Fenris felt a fluttering warmth in his chest and lower belly. He collapsed back on the bed with his legs still dangling off the edge. With his other hand he traced up and down the line between his heart and navel, carefully avoiding the lyrium.

This afternoon in the clinic had been more than confusing. Watching the healer care for and comfort those children for hours had shattered many of the notions Fenris had been holding on to about the mage. The man was kind, nurturing, and so expressive with them. No, this man would never seek to be a Magister. Tevinter would eat him alive.

Anders’ warm smile reached his eyes, eyes the color of sunlight trapped in winter honey. Fenris had not known how to react when it was directed at him. Nor to the casual offering of ‘iced cream’. The treat was refreshingly cool and sweet. Perhaps it was his lack of reaction that had made the healer quieter after that. Fenris must have unknowingly given offence to make the man’s small, round ears flush so. It was laughable, the only time Fenris felt badly for offending the mage was the one time the mage seemed willing to not talk about it.

It was just as well, nothing good could come of it.

Yet he could not get the mage out of his mind. The towering figure bending over to him with a reassuring smile. The way he had held and sang to the small, flame haired, elf girl. The way he scratched at his ever present stubble with his thumb as he cradled his chin when he was thinking. Fenris wondered what that stubble would feel like under his fingers, over his cheek, rasping down the line his own fingers were tracing over his belly.

His leggings were suddenly painfully tight. He fumbled to undo the lacings, raised his hip to pull the leggings down and kicked them off. Fenris sighed in both physical relief and in recognition of what he was going to do.

He closed his eyes, the wine giving him a slight spinning sensation. With one hand he wrenched the front of his tunic back up to breath in _that_ scent while with the other he took himself in hand. Fenris gave in, lost himself in imaginings. He imagined rough whiskers chased by soothing kisses. He imagined large, dangerous hands caressing all over him body. He imagined soft whispers in his ear.

 _Power is useless without control_.

Fenris’s vision went white.

Afterwards, Fenris lay boneless and panting. He felt warm and sated. He trailed his fingers up through the already cooling mess on his belly then held his hand up and just looked at the evidence. He was still amazed that he could even do this. The morning might bring hangover and regret but for right now Fenris felt triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny notes:  
> 1\. The line from your hear to your navel (and further down) is the linea alba. Latin for white line. Which I find funny considering the lyrium markings.  
> 2\. I realized while writing this chapter that I have never in my life so much as written characters kissing. THIS is my first writing of anything remotely sexual. I guess I'm more of a crazy cannon ball type person, no gently testing the water for me. Though kissing, among other things, will e happening in the fic ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> This angst is bittersweet to me, sort of a self hurt/comfort. The more humorous tone will be returning in the next chapter.


	5. A Healer Makes a House Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a plan to get back to the status quo, a very bad plan.

_This was a bad idea and would probably end in bloodshed_ , thought Anders as he shuffled about in front of the Hightown door, Fenris’s door. The nagging unease had been building in the back of his mind like a storm cloud since the elf had made good on his bet last week. The mild rumbles of ‘ _distraction’_ as he lay awake in the night had slowly increased in intensity through the week and had spiked when Fenris had failed to show up tonight for ‘Wicked Grace night’.

Justice was not pleased. Anders was confused. The resulting discordance between them was making everything worse. Something had to be done.

While he had stewed in agitation sitting in ‘The Hanged Man’, the seemings of a plan had formed in his mind. He had left a bit earlier than usual and wandered up the dark streets of Lowtown to the quieter streets of Hightown with the certainty that his mere presence would provoke the elf’s usual acrimony. Perhaps a good verbal bout would halt these recent musings from Ander’s mind.

Oh the cat parallels were amusing enough, but since the elf had helped in the clinic Anders his mind wanders to the quick dart of pink as Fenris’s tongue caught its first taste of iced cream, the widening of large elven eyes in surprise, the subtle softening of his impassive face into unfamiliar contentment. It was tragic how foreign happiness was on that face. It was dangerous how much Anders wanted to bring out that expression again.  

This was not a particularly well thought out plan.

His lengthy hesitation at the door had drawn the eye of a finely dress, gentleman illuminated by house lamp across the street. That was dangerous. Anders’ survival instincts kicked in. He met the gentleman’s eye with a charming grin and nod and went on to knock while affecting a manner of board impatience.  A side glace confirmed the resident of Hightown had moved along. After a moment of waiting the impatience was no false affect. He knocked again.

There was no answer.

 _Do not open that door_ , thought Anders.

Anders opened the door.

It was dark inside the mansion. Darker still as he closed the door behind him. He floundered for a torch on the wall and summoned veilfire. The soft, cold light cast eerie shadows.

“Fenris?” Anders called out into the darkness uncertainly.

 _‘Perhaps he was out doing…what DID Fenris do besides drink, kill things with a preposterously large sword and drive me mad_?’ Anders thought as he made his way from the foyer into the main hall. _Oh, the corpses were still here._ _How lovely_. Anders thought wrinkling his nose. _Wait. It should be unbearably pungent in here_. He walked over and kicked at one, dirty rags and straw gave way under the wrecked armor and cloths.

“Clever”, Anders said to himself. He started towards the massive double staircase leading to where he knew Fenris was dwelling.

Just as he reached the landing the door burst off its hinges with splintering force. Fenris stood brandishing his great sword, lyrium brands blazing as never before, like a blue lightning beacon in the dark. He looked uncanny, like some ethereal creature of the fade.

Anders was awestruck. A part of him, the dark thunderstorm in the back of his mind, had suddenly gone quiet. It felt like suddenly dropping a heavy weight he had become accustomed to. He was light headed and off balance. _He sings_ , echoed softly in Anders’ too quiet mind.

If he had remained distracted a second longer he would have been cut in half as the mad elf charged forward with a powerful swing of the great sword.  Anders jumped back, rolling painfully down the stairs. Anders rose to a knee. He cast Barrier and Paralysis Ward in quick succession as his eyes shot up to the figure crouched on the landing. The force of the blow had destroyed the masonry at the top of the staircase.

“Venhedis! I will never be a slave again!” Fenris roared. Fenris leaped over the landing rail with deadly grace to land on the level below.

“Andraste’s ass! Fenris stop it. It’s me Anders.” The mage shouted. It was as if the elf could not hear him.

Anders’ braced himself, mana at the tips of his fingers, as the warrior charged again. Just before he hit the ward he cut to the right. It was a move Anders had seen him pull before so he knew the elf would be planning to use another powerful swing at his flank. The mage was ready with a Mind Blast. He heard the elf fall.

 _One of Merrill’s Primal Petrify spells would be nice right now_ , though Anders.

When Anders turned to look, Fenris was lying curled on his side stunned. At this distance Anders could see something was very wrong with Fenris. He was struggling to breath, his body reflected profuse sweat in the eerie magic light, and between lines of lyrium he could make out a tell-tale pattern of spots.

 _Dragonfire pox. Shit. Shit. Shit!_ Anders thought as he limped over to kneel the fallen elf. Fenris’s eye were glazed and unfocused, glancing about at things that were not there.

“Danarius!  I, I’m going to kill you I...” Fenris broke into a coughing fit.

 _Maker’s Breath he’s hallucinating_ , Ander’s reeled at the implications. Dragonfire pox hit the elves harder than humans and when contracted as an adult often had severe complications.

“He’s gone Fenris. He’s gone. You’re free. Let me help you”, Anders said while reaching for the elf.

Fenris sat up suddenly, wild eyed and suddenly frightened, “Master?” he asked, and he started to shiver violently. Anders lunged to catch him before he fell again. Fenris was burning hot to the touch. He looked up to try to say something and preceded to vomit down the front of Anders’ coat. Despite the mess he held and soothed the elf as he would any patient until he was calmer. Anders had experience over the years with comforting those confused due to a variety of illnesses and injuries.

Anders began casting healing spells to ease Fenris’s breathing, but his fever was dangerously high.

“We need to cool you off”, Anders stated firmly as he scooped up the ill man. Though his elf frame was slight, his dense musculature made him surprisingly heavy. It was good that Anders was used to such lifting from his work in Darktown. The mage carried Fenris to the dwarven style bathing chamber and sat him on the side of the tub, keeping a steadying hand on him while started the bath. Thankfully the dwarvencraft plumbing was holding up to its reputation. The cold water poured into the stone bathing pool. With as high a fever as Fenris was running any colder would risk shock.

“I’m going to help you with your armor. Please don’t tear my heart out”, Anders asked the listless warrior. Fenris’s lulled his head in answer.

After getting Fenris down to his small cloths and also stripping off his own soiled coat, Anders started to help Fenris into the water. Suddenly Fenris curled into himself and cried out “Please! Please, it was my fault don’t hurt her, punish me. Please. Punish me” Fenris sobbed and shook. Anders felt a foul sourness in the pit of his stomach at the familiarity of the words and the tone. It was echoing dark memories of abuse and fear in the circle. The episode passed and once Fenris was in the water Anders continued to reassure him. Anders kept Healing with a focus on the elf’s head. Sometimes high fevers caused swelling in the brain which could account for the hallucinations.

When finished he carried Fenris up the remaining staircase to his living quarters and tucked the elf into bed. Despite his insane fierceness as a warrior he looked so vulnerable. It felt wrong to see him so, like Anders was intruding on privacy having been so much more familiar with the elf than most of his other patients.

 The part of himself that was Justice had awaken from whatever trance he had been in but did not thunder. It seemed the resonant understanding of pain and the healer’s instinct to protect had effected the harmony of their bond.

As much to calm himself as the elf, he sang his favorite childhood lullaby. 

 _Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_  
_Der Vater hüt die Schaf,_  
_Die Mutter schüttelts Bäumelein,_  
_Da fällt herab ein Träumelein._  
_Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf_

He carded his fingers through the white locks as the elf calmed into sleep. Ander performed one last healing before he stole away back to the clinic to retrieve the herbs, salves and potions which would better control the symptoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby:  
> Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,  
> Der Vater hüt die Schaf,  
> Die Mutter schüttelts Bäumelein,  
> Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.  
> Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf
> 
> Sleep, baby, sleep  
> Your father tends the sheep  
> Your mother shakes the dreamland tree  
> And from it fall sweet dreams for thee  
> Sleep, baby, sleep
> 
> I'm not sure how I feel about the structure of this chapter.  
> Thank you for reading.


	6. Memories and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris POV so angst ahoy! Really though, I needed to add PTSD to the tags because of this chapter.

As Fenris slowly roused to consciousness his confusion was not as simple as where he was. No, he could not remember _who_ he was. Dreams and memories blended and shifted his reality. He was a living weapon coldly killing a Laetan foe of Danarius, then suddenly he was chasing his sister through a garden, her red hair blazing in the golden afternoon sunlight. He was standing in mute horror covered in the blood of his Fog Warrior comrades and then he was anxious to hide his discomfort at the ‘honor’ of joining his master in the bedroom. Hawk was shouting in battle and then Hadriana was laughing over him cruelly. One moment he was crying over lashings his mother took for him, the next he was playing cards with his companions in the Hanged Man. His body was on fire with the spellbrands being driven into his flesh, then he was eating iced cream. He mother was singing him to sleep and the mage was rocking a sickly elf girl while singing in a strange tongue.

The earliest memories were hazy. For some he could only recall his thoughts and feelings about having them, as if he had woken up before and forgotten.

Wherever he was it was warm, soft, and smelled of elfroot. He opened his eyes. The room was large, elegant now rundown, but clean. There was a fire crackling in a fireplace, sending a gentle glow from across the room. This was Kirkwall. This was where he lived in Kirkwall. The mansion Danarius had abandoned.

Fenris pushed himself up from side lying. The room spun and he ached down to his bones. He was wearing only an overlarge, plain, loose, cotton tunic. When he stood on wobbly legs it fell below knees. He did not see his armor or sword anywhere in the room.

When his legs stopped shaking and the world was no longer spinning he ambled over to his cloths chest and donned a spare pair of trousers. He noticed herbalist supplies and unfamiliar documents on his desk. Someone had been here, taking care of him. _Strong arms carrying him upstairs, gentle fingers carding through his hair, a soft voice singing foreign words_ …Anders.

When he exited his room he was alarmed to see the smashed remains of his door and that one of the staircases had been made inaccessible by considerable damage the masonry. He made his way down the other staircase slowly, one step at a time. Now he could smell something that made his mouth water and his stomach pinch in the way that meant he had been days without food. He headed to the kitchen.

The kitchen was different. It was clean for one thing. Mismatched chairs and a simple round table had be put together. The kitchen had ever been remarkably bare but now the counter and table were laden with supplies. It was inviting in a way no room in the mansion had ever been. The tantalizing aroma of unfamiliar food was stronger and everything was lit warmly by the fire in the hearth were the familiar tall figure of Anders stooped over a pot stirring the contents. He was wearing a green tunic with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms and matching trousers tucked into his boots. His hair was half tied back is a messy tail.

Fenis opened the door wider to step through and the creak that resulted had the mage turn to the door, loose strands of hair blazing gold around him.

“Fenris!” he called out. He dropped what he was doing and rushed over in his tromping, heavy boots.

The motion was difficult to track as Fenris was still dazed. It seem the human hand that was reaching for his shoulder had appeared out of nowhere. Fenris caught it with his opposite hand, forming a barrier of his own arm between them. It was an old reflex of his training. Honey brown eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’ve just spent the better part of three days keeping you alive you crazy elf”, Anders said with a playful, lopsided grin. The blonde had taken his other hand and placed it over Fenris’s gripping hand. The soft pressure and the slightest of strokes from a thumb over the back of Fenris’s hand had him relaxing his grip on the mage. At this closeness he could see the dark circles of sleeplessness under the human’s kind eyes and the increase to the scruffiness of the red-gold facial hair nearly making it a true beard. Anders’ cheeks and slightly chapped lips were flushed, probably from working over the fire. Fenris’s mouth was suddenly dry.

“I…, of course. I am not myself” Fenris said as he looked down and released Anders’ wrist.

Anders did not let go of his hand, instead he wrapped his warm fingers around to Fenris’s palm and gently guided him to sit at the small table.

“Well at least you didn’t come at me with another Mighty Blow this time” the man said playfully as Fenris sat down. Anders sat across from him, still loosely holding his hand. The touch was pleasant, Fenris noted with detached wonder.

“When did I ever…the stairway. That was me.” Fenris replied in realization and then continued, “Three days, what happened?”

“Dragonfire pox. You were hallucinating when I found you. You should have told me you never had it as a child. I never would have exposed you like that for a stupid bet. Elves always burn hotter and it has other dangerous side effects in adults.” Anders scolded mildly.

“I could not have known.” Fenris replied. He stomach growled.

“I’ve made oat porridge with goat’s milk, honey and apple. I was hoping you would be up to some solid food today”, Anders smiled, slightly squeezed his hand, and got up to fetch the food.

“What do you mean you could not have known?” the human asked while he ladled out the porridge into bowls.

“The ritual that gave me my markings also stripped me of my memories, what I was before may as well have never been.” Fenris answered and after a paused softly continued, “Yet now broken pieces of lost memories are scattered in my mind.”

Anders return to the table with a tray containing two bowls of porridge and two cups of tea. He wore a troubled look and was worrying his lip in thought as he set the table. The first bite was delectable as only food can be after a long fast. The porridge was lightly spiced, sweet, and thinned by milk. The apple pieces were soft, and tart in contrast to the sweetness of the honey.

“Eat slowly, you’ve not had more that broth and teas for the last three days” Anders instructed. The man wrapped both hands around his own cup of tea and took a sip. Then he slowly spoke, “Sometimes, especially in adults, the high fevers of Dragonfire Pox effect the mind with delirium. The patient gets lost in time and memories. As I said, when I found you, you were hallucinating and you continued to for over a day. Perhaps the fever was able to breach whatever magics were blocking your memories”.

“Perhaps. I had assumed it was the pain of the experiments that robbed me of my memory. Whatever the reason, some of what I was has returned to me. Though I am not sure what to do with it”, Fenris replied, looking at food.

They finished the simple meal quietly and Anders gathered the dishes to the wash basin.

“You should rest”, Anders said while washing the dishes.

“Apparently I’ve been sleeping for three days. I am going to take a bath.” Fenris replied feeling the beginning of a smile. He started to stand to make his way to the bathing room, but Anders was suddenly beside him with a hand on his shoulder mildly pushing him to remain seated. Fenris sat back down at the touch and was confused as to why he would acquiesce to the touch rather than balk at it.

“Here, have another cup of tea. I’ll get the water ready for you”, Anders said before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

Fenris sat contemplating the muddle of his memories and the strangeness at not reacting with fear and pain at a mage’s touch. Both lines of though increased his sense of apprehension. His agitation increased and he found he could not sit still despite his weariness. He stood and only slightly staggered on his way to the bathing chambers.

Anders was on his knees with both arms submerged in the filling bath waters, steam wafted off the surface and the red of elemental fire magic glowed from beneath. Fenris felt a small thrill at the sight. _My beautiful mage is on his knees for me_. Fenris thought and was instantly horrified at himself. He closed his eyes in concentration. He could feel himself trying to close off his emotions to protect himself.

“Are you feeling dizzy? Here let me help you”, Anders voice seemed far away to Fenris. There was a warm hand on his brow that fell away to pull the tunic up, knuckles grazing his flanks. The taste of the elemental fire magic was in the air. Without warning those simple touches were overwhelmed with _nails biting into hips as his master used him, fingers pinching ears painfully as he struggled against gagging, a hand petting him absentmindedly as if he were a dog after being played with like a puppet by his master’s blood magic_. 

Fenris lost himself in flood of memories, ghostly hands drug him into darkness. When he came to his right hand was pulled back already humming with the echo of a hit landed, his left hand clutched cloth, and he was leaning heavy through his left forearm onto a broad human chest. Anders lay below him, eyes glassy black from fear and already bruising over the left eye. Fenris jumped off of the man so fast he stumbled and fell on the flat ground, just missing the mage’s Mind Blast.

 “Andraste’s flaming knickers, what the void was that for?” Anders exclaimed as he came up to sitting with a look of exasperation. Fenris could not find the words to respond and sat stunned, with growing horror and self-loathing.

“I don’t, I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t! It’s too much. Just leave. Go back to your clinic”, Fenris rambled. Ander’s exasperation faded.

“Fenris, just breathe, slowly and deep. You’re safe here”, Anders said calmly and tentatively reached for Fenris with one hand. Fenris recoiled back into a crouch.

“No mage, get out now!” Fenris growled.

Anders let his hand fall, his face fell with it.

“Alright”, the mage said simply. He stood and walked out the door. Fenris listened to the sound of boots marching across the main hall, soon followed by the slam of the front door. Fenris wilted. He did not realize he had been crying until the salt water reached his tongue.

He lost track of time sitting on the floor lost in his terrible thoughts. When he finally stood the bathwater had gone cold. That was just as well. He deserved the cold, craved the numbness of it. After he washed with efficiency he saw his armor and sword laying on the dressing table, cleaned and oiled. Beside them Anders coat hung. He walked over and touched the still wet feathers of a shoulder. _My mage_ , he thought and snatched his fingers away as if burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I was thinking here was that if the trigger for Fenris's memory return was an illness that lasted days he would actually retain more memories instead of them going away immediately. That might have some differnet problem's than what he had in game.  
> So that was a bit intense there. That was cathartic for me. Delirium and PTSD are scary enough when not combined.  
> On a happier note, I now have a hand holding scene under my belt. I guess that means I'm ready to write my first ever kissing scene in the next chapter, right?


	7. The Cat Came Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains some odd ideas I had about the Anders and Justice merge. Won't you tell me what you think?

Anders was a mess and just trying to hold it together. He had lit the lantern early again today. The only thing that he was sure about anymore was that the poor of Kirkwell were always in need of him so he had been working himself harder than ever since his days of absence. There was a desperation to his work, a hope that it would clear his mind of the clamor of emotions and exhaust him into sleep.

Still, thoughts of the elven warrior would not leave his mind and had kept sleep elusive the last three nights. This morning there was a quiet in the clinic and his mind wandered to Fenris.

Oh, he knew the elf had been recovering, after he had left Fenris’s mansion he had stomped his way over to Hawk’s house. Not caring for the lateness of the hour, he lost no momentum when Bodahn opened the door and marched up to Hawk’s chambers. Hawk was not amused, Isabella even less so. Still, despite his irritation, Hawk saw the seriousness of the situation had agree to check in on Fenris for Anders over the next few days.

His feelings towards the prickly warrior had been warming for some time since his idle musings of feline Fenris had begun amusing him every single time he saw the elf. In fact Anders had developed a very foolish infatuation. That was before the elf had come down with Dragonfire Pox, before he had seen behind the elf’s stoic façade.

Now Anders realized his foolishness had reached spectacular heights he could never have dreamed of, he had gone and fallen in love with a mage hating, emotionally scarred elf. An elf who could now, both in a figurative sense and very disturbingly literal sense, rip his heart out.

 _Why could nothing ever be simple in my life?_ Anders wondered. Fenris was the most painfully complicated person for Anders to pine over. He thought of their last violent parting. It was like reaching out to give affection to a cat and not knowing if it would try to tear your hand apart.

Worse.

 _What if I reach out and touch upon one of the elf’s many dark memories? I once had similar responses. I pushed myself through them out of stubborn fury, trying to cover the old memories with new ones. Is this Karl felt, all those years ago?_ Anders thought of his dead friend, his lover, with grief but also an admiration for the man’s endless gentle strength and patience. The older boy had actually initially turned down Anders defiant advances, only to progress slowly. His exploits with other mages had be frantically selfish for both parties, and what the Templar has done did not bear thinking. Tenderness was an outlandish thing to young Anders, but he found it was the only thing that made life in the Tower bearable.

 _Could I have that patience with Fenris?_ Anders questioned himself uncertainly.

The elf was at the center of storm, but it was more than that now. He felt lost, adrift on a strange and dangerous wind.

After the merging, Justice had found a purpose in Anders. Justice heralded from the Fade, where reality was shaped by will…and emotion. Whatever else Anders was, he was a man of strong emotions. Forced to experience the foreignness of human emotion first hand, the Spirit had been twisted into Vengeance. Anders’ fear and hatred of the Templars coupled with his will to freedom had been concentrated by the Spirit into a goal: Mage Freedom.

Alas, the Spirit was not cognizant of how emotions could distort the _perception_ of reality in the world beyond the fade. Furthermore, they were blindly resistant to points of view that directly challenged their reality. Their cause was just, their resolve absolute.

While Anders tended to the hallucinating Fenris that all came crashing down like a house of wicked grace cards. The part of him that was Justice had been calmed and suppressed by the activated lyrium in the elf’s skin. The initial attack had not been the last time the lyrium sang so clearly and the constant, unrelenting drive and focus within Anders was muted. As the part of him that was Justice relaxed, other parts of his mind woke. Without the focus Justice had provided, his emotions were like quicksilver.

Anders could _feel_ more. He could _see_ more. 

What he saw was Fenris, reliving the horrors of a slave’s under the Teventer Imperium. For three days he watched as he worked to keep the elf alive. The elf he had grown to care about had suffered so much at the hands of mages. The elf’s fears of a Thedas wide Imperium _were_ reasonable considering his experience. Ander must consider that possibility.

 _We must not help create a greater injustice while trying to free the oppressed mages_. Anders thought. To Justice it was as if the world around him was in flux with Anders’ emotions. Justice was swift and clear, but the world was chaotic, messy, and more deceptively complex than the fade. Now, after the effects of the lyrium had long faded, the part of him that was Justice was reticent, humbled and unsure.

Anders had a half second of relief from the prospect of escaping his thoughts as a crowd of people came pouring in both doors. That was of course followed swiftly by guilt, then a moment of panic at the severity of injuries, and finally the cold rationality of triage necessity.  There had been an accident in the Dragon Pit. He rushed to assess the injured and sort them by need. All other thoughts mercifully forgotten.

***

Lirene had turned out the lamp and closed up the clinic to tend to the few miners that could not be moved home yet. They were sleeping fitfully with aid of a potion in order to let their bodies’ natural healing be more effective. The dead had been quietly cleared by family members or Lirene’s hired arms. It was merely late afternoon but Anders had exhausted himself tending to the wounded.

Cloths covered in blood, Anders had retreated to the solitude of the back room he had made into his living quarters to clean up and gather his strength for later. He know that with as many seriously injured carried in this morning there would be many miners that would have forced themselves to work through injuries that could be just as deadly left untreated. All for the small daily wages that could also be the difference between life and death to the poor in this city. Poverty was a world of sad ironies.

Ander stripped off his tunic and began wiping down his body with a clean strip of cloth, harsh soap, and a cold bowl of water. He could feel the tingle of gooseflesh on his arms and back.  He did not even have the mana to heat the water at this point.

It was when he was shaking out his freshly cleaned, damp hair that he heard it, a heavy and insistent knock on the door. That could not be good. The residents respected the lantern, unless someone was dying. Or it could be someone after the Darktown Apostate. Years of running from Templars had Anders on high alert and feeling woefully exposed dressed only in his small cloths. Anders flung a clean tunic on and grabbed his staff as he threw open the door to the clinic proper.

Fenris was pushing his way passed Lirene who was trying scold him out the door. A poor miner moaned, roused from his artificial slumber by the disquiet.  Anders gritted his teeth and stormed over to the elf.

“Do not disturb my patients”, he hissed.

Fenris just frowned unrelentingly as if made of stone.

 _Oh wonderful, THAT look is back_ , though Anders. He deflated from his acute fear with a sigh. Anders gestured toward the back room and turned to walk there himself, assuming the elf would follow. He did.

Anders closed the door behind them and set his staff to rest against the wall. He was now alone in his room with Fenris. A new anxiety blossomed from the ashes of his earlier panic. He was suddenly very aware of his lack of pants and was hypersensitive in annoying ways. Wet locks tickled as they clung to his face and neck. The laces at the breast of his tunic hung loose. When he met the warrior’s impassive face he felt naked. So of course he had to lash out in the way he always did when backed in a corner, he ran his mouth.

“Andraste’s fiery knickers! I know that crazy mind of your hates me even more for the audacity of saving your life, but must you cause such a scene? It has been a terrible day, bloody dreadful actually. So if you’re here to cause trouble just go. Some people actually want to be helped”, Anders words dripped sarcasm.

“I only came to return this”, the warrior said tersely.

Fenris glared, his hackles raise. He pulled forward a sack from over his shoulder and dumped out the contents on the floor between them. It was his coat. Anders was taken aback, not expecting this. He hadn’t exactly forgotten his beloved coat, just assumed it had met a tattered end at the angry elf’s claws. Of course his strange sense of humor jumped at the most awkward of times. Abruptly the image of the fuming elf standing over the feathery coat seemed so like a cat bringing in a dead bird as a gift. In his exhaustion Anders could not resist a bemused chuckle.

Fenris’s expression darkened, “I should not have come here,” he stated. He turned towards the door.

 _Why am I always so blighted stupid_? Anders thought.

“Fenris, I’m sorry. Wait. Please don’t go. We should talk-“Anders words were cut short. As his hand landed on the warrior’s arm to halt his exit he swiftly found himself slammed hard against the cold stone pillar beside the door. He was held fast by glowing, incredibly strong arms.

Stunned, Anders regarded Fenris. His cold mask had fallen and he looked so vulnerable despite his obvious physical power. A torrent of raw emotions flashed across that beautiful face. There was so much pain behind those green eyes. This fierce and fragile man was dazzlingly beautiful in so many ways. He had overcome so much and was still struggling valiantly.

Anders dove forward and planted a kiss to Fenris’s cheek. Fenris’s breath hitched in surprise, the tips of his gauntlets pricking sharply into Anders arms for an instant. Anders softly kissed the corner of that startled mouth and Fenris’s hold relaxed but remained.

 _Good, no heart ripping yet_ , Anders thought, and briefly met Fenris’s eyes. There was no disgust or violence, only an achingly adorable wonder. Anders brought one hand up to cradle that lovely face and gently kissed Fenris’s warm lips. When Fenris responded he was almost desperate, as if he suspected Anders would disappear at any moment. Tongue darted out to find Anders’, delightfully nimble. The elf’s clawed hands slipped down to rest lightly on Ander’s chest as if unable to decide what to touch.

Anders spread his legs, sliding a bit down the wall. This lowered him to Fenris’s height while also inviting the elf closer, now they were pressed deliciously close together. Anders gasp for breath as he broke from the kiss. Fenris’ expression was needy but uncertain.

 _He needs me to lead_ , Anders thought, _I can give him that_.

Anders gave a small smile as leaned forward to press a slow kiss to Fenris’s lips. At the same time he gently but firmly pressed Fenris by a shoulder and hip, reversing their positions. Anders kept his legs parted, bearing his weight through a forearm on the wall, caressed Fenris’s face with his other hand, and kissed his lovely elf as ardently and tenderly as he could. Fenris responded with arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. His erection was just a bit painful, being protected only by a scrap of cloth from the warrior’s leather armor. He kissed his way down the side of Fenris’s throat, fingers threading through snowy locks. This elicted a sound he could only think of as a purr from the elf. It made Anders’ bare toes curl into the dusty ground.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Healer is everything well?” Lirene’s worried voice called from behind the door, halting their ministrations as effectively as a bucket of ice water.

“Everything is well Lirene. Please stay with the wounded” Anders called towards the closed door.

When he looked back to Fenris the elf’s dark skin was dewy with sweat, his breath heavy through well kissed lips, and his large eyes pools of black.

 _This is going too fast, it will hurt him_. Anders thought. Anders leaned forward once more to press a chaste kiss to Fenris’s mouth while gently running his fingers over the side of his face. Anders then pulled away with a sad smile.  

“I am needed here a bit longer. If you leave your door open tonight I will come to you. You know what I am, if you change your mind I will understand. Please, think about what you want, and more especially what you do _not_ want. I could not bear hurting you.” Anders spoke softly.

Fenris seemed to come back to himself, pulling himself from the wall.

“Very well Mage…Anders. Until tonight.” Fenris replied in his deep voice. He quickly wrenched open the door and all but fled through the clinic. Lirene pretending not notice. Anders stood there as if dazed until he remembered he was wearing nothing more than an inside out tunic, one that was currently sporting a rather obvious tent in the front. Anders jumped and hurried to close the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was my first kissing scene EVER. I'm rather please with myself for just going for it.


	8. An Akward Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders head up to Hightown to see about an Elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I've had 2 family emergencies :(  
> I decided to break what I'm writing into two chapters so this will not be the end.

Anders had spent so much time staring at this particular door he was beginning to see pictures in the grains as some people he knew might see shapes in clouds. Perhaps the fatigue from the long day and the late hour helped that a bit. _Right, it is later than I’d hoped. Fenris may be worried I’ve stood him up, that is if he hadn’t changed his mind. I need to stop dallying like a lovesick apprentice_. Anders thought. He smooth his hair in place and cursed himself for not having time to shave off his two day stubble. At least his best set of cloths had been clean.

 He held his breath as he reached open the door, dreading the melancholy if it were locked and anticipating the anxiety of uncertainty if it were left open.

The door opened with a now familiar dilapidated groan.

“Fenris?” he called out, trying not to sound nervous. It was actually well lit in entrance and main hall. Still, he couldn’t help thinking about the last time he entered the mansion and called out to the warrior. Hopefully this visit would have a more pleasant meeting.

Upon entering the main hall he noted the door to Fenris’s room was open. A fire backlit the darken form of the elf as he crossed out to the balcony and into the torchlight. He was wearing his typical armor, the claw of a gauntlet cradling a wine glass which he set on the balcony rail while he leaned over it.

“I was beginning to think you changed your mind”, the elf said. His rich voice resonated through the hall.

“And I worried I would find the door locked and barred against me” Anders smirked up at the warrior.  “My lateness could not be helped. There were more wounded that kept working the dragon pit than I thought, thankfully none died this evening. It’s astounding and dreadful what people can work though when desperate enough. Some literally work themselves to death in this city, horrible”. Anders was trying to talk his way out of a fluster and as he held up his satchel continued with forced cheer, “I brought supper. It won’t take long to put together. We can eat while we talk”.

Fenris was too far away to discern his expression but paused a moment as if in thought and then replied “That would be welcome”. Fenris began descending the staircase as gracefully as a cat. The one remaining staircase noted Anders.

“I…I wanted to apologize for snapping at you when you walked in this afternoon. I wasn’t able to save all of them and had drained all my mana trying. I was out of sorts” Anders rambled.

Fenris reached ground level and replied, “I’ve done worse when out of sorts”. He gestured to ruined staircase. When he had reached Anders he extended a hand towards the mage’s face. He gently traced a curved path from eyebrow to cheek with his calloused finger pads, the sharp points of his gauntlets tickling in their wake. The elf’s voice became softer and deeper, “Worse and much undeserved. _I_ apologize for this. It will not happen again”.

“No it won’t”, Anders said, a bit breathless from the unexpected gentle touch. It has been a long time since anyone had touch him with such care. He caught Fenris’s hand with his own and bringing the palm lower, he kissed it gently with a lopsided smile. “That’s one of the things we should talk about”.

He lowered their joined hands but did not let go. Instead Anders lightly pulled the elf into his own kitchen. It was much as he had left it, save that the fireplace was cold and full of ashes.

“Would you sweep the hearth and set up some wood while I prepare the food?” Anders asked.

“Very well”, Fenris replied with a slight furrow to his brow.

Anders busied himself with chopping the vegetables first. As he worked he asked, “Are you having any residual problems from the Pox?”

“My health seems nearly be back to normal. Though the lapse in training is still noticeable.” Fenris replied.

“Any trouble breathing or lightheadedness?” Anders asked as he mixed the chopped love apples, garlic and onion with some of the dried spices he had stashed here while tending to Fenris.

“Just a cough when I push myself in my training routine”, Fenris said while the raspy sounds of the hearths broom moving over the stone.

“That’s to be expected.” Anders stated as his knife beat out a steady rhythm on the cutting board. Then after a pause continued hesitantly, “What of your returned memories?”

The sound of the sweeping stopped.

Anders put down the knife turned towards the elf who was hunched over up on the hearth, head bowed, and clutching the broom in a white knuckled grip. Anders walked over to him.

“Fenris? Are you with me?” Anders asked while bending over so he could peer up under the curtain of moonlight locks at the grim face. Large, green eyes met his. Fenris was calm, controlled. He was not hallucinating. Anders reached a hand to rest along the side of the elf’s face, eased him to look upward and brushed back the fringe of hair. The warrior let out a heavy sigh as if he had been holding his breath. His posture relaxed.

“I am no longer losing myself in memories and nightmares. I am simply not sure how to begin describing what it is I have experienced”. Fenris said calmly and continued, “Some of the memories are as sharp as if they had happened yesterday, while others are faded to the memory of me reacting to them as if they were the wisp dream, and I am unsure of the order of events.” Fenris fell into a gloomy silence. Anders leaned down to press a quick kiss to the crown of the elf’s head before letting his hand fall away. Fenris’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Think about what you would like to share. That is, IF you would like to share with me. We can talk while we eat”, Anders said with a reassuring smile.

Fenris matched it with a hint of a grin. “Then you better stop trampling through my work with those ridiculous boots of yours, mage”.

Anders chuckled and returned to the counter to slice the soft cheese and crusty bread. These were gifts from patients who refused to allow him to decline. He was comforted in that they were not the worst off of his patients and could spare it. By the time he was finished Fenris had already arranged the dried out logs and was sitting on the hearth, gazing at Anders with a contemplative look that continued as Anders crossed over to light the fire with elemental flame magic. He set both the pot for the vegetables and a kettle for tea over the flames. He added the vegetables in in timed order with the casualness of a familiar task. Herbalism and cooking had many similarities after all. While he stirred the pot he glanced over to meet the elf’s mossy eyes.

“I must confess something to you as well. I- something happened to me while I tended to you.” At the blooming look of horror on the elf’s face Anders quickly added “No, you didn’t hurt me! Well, nothing worse than what happened in the bath. That’s not what I’m talking about though. I think it was how often you lit up your markings, it effected Justice. It was as if he were asleep or drugged. Neither of us had realized how much he had changed me until he was subdued. He had locked my thoughts to a single purpose driven by the fear and anger I felt towards the Templars and the Circle. Justice is a being of absolutes. He blinded us to the contradictions and complications that exist in this world. When he found himself pulled along with my unfettered human emotions and thoughts he felt lost.” Anders added the last items to the pot and continued to stir.

“Your de- _Spirit_ ” Fenris corrected stiffly, “has not retaken your mind then?”

“He cannot leave me. He is a part of me but he is quieter now, and more like he was before we joined. He is- we are, afraid of what would have become of us if we had continued as we were.” Anders smiled shyly. “I believed you saved me just as surely as I save you Fenris.”

“I am…pleased for you. “Fenris said with a guarded voice and went on to ask, “Though I am curious as to what exactly this change means for you. What of your cause, your _Manifesto_?”

Anders concentrated on not burning the sauce or the bread slices it was a welcome diversion from meeting the warriors gaze as he continued. “Mage’s _do_ deserve the opportunity to live freely, but _not_ at the cost of others’ freedom. The methods to achieve mage freedoms must consider these consequences, I was to ready to dismiss them before. Slavery _is_ appalling. I _know_ there has to be better way, something not the Circle or the Imperium. I-, I welcome your thoughts if you care to discuss it with me. You deserve the same things I want- to be happy, to feel safe, and to live your life. Whether you wish to explore what is between us further or not, I want you to know that when those who would subjugate you come for you my magic is yours.” Anders bit his lip and dared to look over at Fenris.

Fenris was leading back against the stone wall. He was lit by the warm firelight but where the light did not touch deep shadows fell. His face was void of any discernable emotion. Anders felt held by that cool gaze and shivered despite the sweat on his brow from cooking at the hearth. That is until a burnt smell diverted his attentions.

“Ah, Andraste’s knickerweasles!” the mage exclaimed. He fumbled between the toasting pole and the spoon for the sauce, singeing his wrist on the pot in the process. Only the end of one bread slice had actually caught and was easily broken off. “That’ll be mine then”, Anders laughed with a nervous bark without looking at the elf and removed everything from the fire. 

“Are you alright mage?” Fenris asked.

“I will be”, he replied. Tracing a cool wisp of healing magic across the burnt wrist was as natural as breathing to Anders. He then made short work of putting the thick sauce on the bread and topping them with the cheese slices. The familiar mundane task easing his awkwardness somewhat. Anders laughed, “I’m like one of the cautionary tales they tell in the Circle. The powerful mage done in by his own clumsy inattention to the mundane. Next thing you know I’ll cook myself calling on lightning while knee deep in water”.

“I could imagine something like that, the way you have been so distracted lately”, Fenris answered with a feline glint in his eye. Anders blushed and felt like a mouse being toyed with.

“Pour the tea won’t you? Let’s eat while it’s hot.” Anders forced a smile as he carried the food to the table. They ate quietly, but as they sipped on their tea Fenris broke the silence.

“In the memories returned, I had a family.” Fenris said.

“While you were hallucinating you were not always distressed. Sometimes you were peaceful, even happy. That was mostly when you were seeing your mother and someone named Varania”, Anders replied.

Fenris widened his eyes slightly in a way that meant he was surprised.

“Varania. She was my younger sister. She was…like you”, Fenris said with a forlorn expression.

“Blond, beautiful and brilliant?” Anders answered with a cheeky grin which quickly fell. “No. You mean she had magic. Your sister was a mage and you’re so horrified that you can’t even say the words”. Anders said with quiet, bitter resignation.

“I did not fear _her_ for her magic. I feared what would happen to her because of it. In many ways it put her in more danger. Magic or no, she was still a slave in the Imperium. We were both the property of a Magister obsessed with dangerous experimentation and unconcerned with killing slaves to achieve his goals. A mage slave would be both useful and expendable to him.” Fenris countered and then peered at the lyrium lines densely covering his palm. “I…I believe I sought whatever lead to these markings as a way to win freedom for my mother and sister. To protect her from such a fate. I had to fight, to kill, but I was to be granted a boon. You must think me quite the fraud”.

“I think that is one of the bravest and saddest things I’ve ever heard.” The Mage said in wonderment. ‘ _How could I not love this man, this beautiful, broken, brave man_?’ Anders thought and reached out to take the elf’s gauntleted hand in his own. It was warm from previously holding the cup of tea. The warrior hissed in a breath, but did not pull away. After a pause Anders asked, “Do you know what became of them?”

“Danarius kept his word. I now remember the pride I felt, watching them walk out as free women. I do not know anything beyond that. After the experiments I had no memories that would have compelled me to seek them out. I lived only for Danarius, to be his tool, his perfect weapon”.

 “You are your own man now and you will kill that bastard when the times comes. In the meantime, you have a name and your memories. Perhaps you might yet find this little sister of yours?” Anders said.

“Perhaps, I must give it careful thought. Danarius is aware of her. He would have no reason to think I am aware of her but it could still be very dangerous. I would not wish to endanger her in my selfishness or set my own trap.” Fenris replied.

“You have friends now Fenris, you are not alone”, Anders said earnestly.

“Friends, it is a strange concept for me. I keep waiting for it to go wrong, probably of my own doing”. He gave a bitter laugh which transformed into a hint of a warm smile. “And yet I find myself wanting for many things I have little experience of”. He let his hand drop away from their now relaxed grip, stood up, and looked down at Anders. “Will you join me upstairs?”

Anders mouth was suddenly dry. He nodded quickly and practically hummed with excitement as he followed the elf to his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was dialog heavy which was difficult but I think needed. I was not in the best headspace writing it. So I might need to go back and play with it later. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> The last installment should be more forthcoming, that is unless I need those smelling salts from trying to write a 'M' rated sexy scene for the first time ;)


	9. Just As You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and especially for the kudos and comments :) I am sorry this last chapter took so long. I was very ill but am feeling much better now.

Fenris strode to the table by the fireplace and poured two glasses of blood red wine. Anders stopped sort at the desk and sat.

“Did you think about what I asked you this afternoon? What you want and don’t want?” Anders asked while he lay his travel medical kit on the desk.

Fenris walked over with a slight tension to his brow and replied “I was not sure of your meaning, whether you meant what I wanted in a relationship or what I wanted in a more…carnal sense”.

“I was rather vague I know, I was a bit distracted”, Anders smiled up at the pensive elf with a nervous laugh, “but to answer your question: both. Perhaps we could talk about the former first?”

Fenris sighed and sat on the desk looking away towards the flames. “I have no experiences to draw from in regard to relationships, even with my returned memories. I’m afraid I am doomed to ruin any attempt I make. Still, I would like to try, with you.”

When Fenris turned back Anders was beaming, “My experience in such matters is limited as well. Love was just another thing that could be used to hurt you in the circle but I am only a man. I care for you. I would be close to you if you would have me. Whether as a lover or a friend. The thought of a casual dalliance holds little allure for me anymore”.

“Anymore?” Fenris asked with a wry smile.

“I’ve made no secret of my colorful past and I do not regret it. It was what I needed at the time. I covered some horrible memories with new, more pleasant ones. I think it was a kind of healing.” Anders replied with a soft smile. “It was liberating.”

“An act of defiance.” Fenris stated.

“Exactly.” The Mage replied.

“It seems we are of like mind on this occasion, will wonders never cease?” Fenris said contently.

“That’s a relief”, Anders positively beamed with smiling.

The mage’s smile became a nervous sort of mischievous, “Um…have you thought about your preferences and boundaries? Sexually I mean. For instance I assumed you would not want magic in the bedroom”, the Mage said.

“Yes. That would definitely not be welcome.” Fenris answered quickly. Fenris fidgeted with his hands, picking up stray objects on the desk and turning them over in his hand before moving on to something else. He continued, “You said you covered bad memories with good ones? Almost every carnal act I can think of has been taken from me and twisted. I don’t know where to begin”.

 _He still needs me to take the lead_ , thought Anders. _I can do this for him. I can do this_. Anders steadied himself emotionally. 

“Then we take our time,” Anders said. Then with a wide grin, “There is a saying in Fereldon, have you ever seen a porpentine1?” he Asked.

“Um, no.”Fenris replied, looking confused, which was better than the defeated look he was just wearing.

“It’s probably too hot for them here in the North. They are docile creatures, a little smaller and fatter than a nug but completely covered in very long, sharp quills.” Anders rambled and held his hands apart indicating the length of the quills, “They can even shoot them at you when upset! Even Mabari find them too much trouble. Anyway, the joke is: How do porpentines mate?” after a short pause with Fenris staring blankly Anders answered himself with the slow flourish of theatric seriousness, “Very carefully”.

A sudden, cough-like laugh erupted from Fenris. _Mirth becomes him. I want to see him laugh more, to be the reason for it_ , Anders thought as his mock solemnity broke and he chuckled at his own joke. All too soon the elf pinched his lips together and looked away pensively, as if uncomfortable with displaying emotion so openly. _At least I chased away the gloom_ , Anders thought.

“I will tell you before I plan on doing anything new. I will wait for you to say ‘yes’ before I precede.  If something is too much or you do not want to do it you say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ at any time and we’ll stop and talk. The same goes for me, if I say ‘no’ or stop’.  This will help prevent hurting each other physically or mentally. Does that sound alright?” Anders asked.

“Yes”, the elf still not meeting Anders eyes. “There is one thing I know would be too much, using my mouth, ummm, to pleasure you. Also, it would be best if you were in front of me at all times so I can see you”.

“That’s very good to know. If you think of anything else let me know”, Anders said. He bit his lip, working up the courage for what he was about to say next. “I brought something that may help you feel safe. I _want_ you to feel safe. ” He opened up the small medical kit. In it were the normal clean bandages, a healing potion, ointments and a wickedly sharp obsidian healers’ blade. There was also a small black vial which make Anders feel nervous just picking up. He couldn’t take his eyes of it, as if it would bite him if he weren’t looking.

“It’s Magebane”, said the mage with his eyes still trained on the small bottle. “I can make a small cut and wrap a treated bandage to the wound. It will suppress my abilities and in this dose should not make me violently ill. That would be quite the mood killer,” Anders forced a smile at that but couldn’t hold it. “I _can_ control my magic, even when distracted, but with everything you have experienced I thought that if you knew it wasn’t even _possible_ it might be a relief to you. I will have a bit of dizziness so don’t let me fall over and kill myself”, he gave a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. “I- I’ve bad memories of this forced on me so you cannot be forceful with me, hold me down and especially do not bind my hands or blindfold me when I’m effected by this.” Anders said in a soft rush. His hand reached for the black, glinting healers’ blade. Before he could lift it a calloused hand descended atop his larger, shaking one.

“No. Mage, _my_ mage. Anders. I would have you just as you are” Fenris said huskily.

A hand was suddenly tilting up at Anders chin. Warm, dry lips descended harshly and kissed him with unbridled hunger. Anders responded with eagerness, delighting in the physical intimacy, until he was breathless. The elf’s hands and lips were abruptly removed as he smirked down at Anders like a playful cat ready to pounce. Anders felt a curl of apprehension in his stomach at that look. Suddenly Anders lankly legs were dangling from the chair. The elf really was ridiculously strong for his frame, he had picked up the entire chair with Anders in it without even straining and positioned it away from the desk. The display of physical prowess was enticing, even more so was the lapful of elf Anders now found himself with.

Anders held a leather clad hip in one hand and the other caressed through the snowy locks at Fenris’s temple. Fenris had one arm draped over Anders shoulder with clawed hand carding the tie out of his blonde hair while the other played with the scruff of the human’s jaw and throat. The elf’s lips turn up in a small smile that was so astonishingly innocent in its earnestness it made Anders heart flutter in his chest. This seasoned warrior was allowing himself to be so vulnerable, trusting Anders of all people. Anders drew him down to pepper quick kisses up his lyrium lined throat and lavish those smiling lips, unhurried and thorough in demonstrating his affection.  

 _I would have you just as you are_ , echoed in Anders mind. Anders moaned at the rush of emotion those words brought him just as much as the physical stimulation.

When they eventually broke the kiss. Fenris nuzzled his smooth cheek against Anders’ scruffy face. Anders had the instant and strange sense of being the center of attention of a large and affectionate lap cat. The absurdity pulled a chuckle from the mage which unfortunately halted Fenris’s ministrations. A questioning gaze met Anders eyes.

 _He would probably not appreciate the feline comparison,_ Anders thought. Thankfully thoughts tumbled through his head so fast a different one was imediately ready to voice.

“I worried over not having time to shave but you seem rather fond of my scruffiness”, Anders said with a grin which earned another shy smile from the elf.

“Elves do not grow beards. It is a strange and… pleasant sensation”, Fenris acknowledged.

“Could we perhaps remove these?” Anders asked as he ran a hand over the metal of the cuirass and the spike of a gauntlet elbow.

Fenris gave a curt nod and proceeded to unbuckle his gauntlets and laid both of them on the desk at their side. Anders knew trying to help would only slow down the process so he enjoyed letting his hands wander over the elf’s hips and thighs, though never quite to the rather obvious bulge in the front of those leggings. As Fenris finished placing his cuirass beside the gauntlets Anders deft fingers pull the newly revealed undershirt from the warrior’s leggings. There his exploration paused, his thumbs tracing the bare skin just above the belt. Fenris gave a sharp intake of breath, his finger tanging in the ties of his undershirt. Anders let his hand fall to rest on the warrior’s belt.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Anders asked with concern.

“No. No, you didn’t hurt me. I’ve never allowed anyone this close. The markings are…sensitive. In the ritual that made them the pain was extraordinary. The memory of it lingers.” Fenris replied. His face became stony with resolve. He ripped the shirt over his head and across the room in a flash. He plucked up the mage’s hand and place it over his heart. “Perhaps it can be different now? You can help me make better memories?” the elf asked hopefully.

“Happy ones”, Anders replied as he leaned in to kiss the dark hand holding his own pale one. “I would like to take you to the bed and demonstrate. I would like you to lay down and kiss you from head to…wherever you let me. Would you like that?” Anders asked.

“Yes, but you are overdressed my mage” Fenris answered with coy smile while flicking a feather on Anders Shoulder.

“Oh, I’ll make a show of it if you like, maybe do a little dance, Anders spicy shimmy”, Anders said with a toothy grin which Fenris matched. He swiftly moved his hands to grip tight to the Warrior’s leather clad backside as stood up. Fenris reacted by wrapping his legs around the human’s waist and his arms around held tight to the feathered shoulders he had been playing with. His elven eyes were impossibly wide.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to let go of you”, Anders laughed.

“Take me to the bed now” Fenris growled. Anders felt the small hairs all over his body raise.

“Yes, Messere” Anders answered, licking his suddenly dry lips. Fenris nipped at his neck. The mage gave a small yelp and strode across the room briskly. When he got to the bed the elf’s whisper curled into his ear, “Sit”. Anders obeyed eagerly. Nimble fingers undid the laces and buckles of Anders coat and tunic. The demanding mouth returned to the mage’s throat to nip and suck with just an edge of pain that sharpened the pleasure tenfold.

 _Oh, that’s going to leave a mark_ , Anders thought with absolutely no plans on healing it later.

Fenris broke from his attentions with rumbling moan and stood and pulled Anders up with him with a speed that had Anders’ head spinning a bit. Soon the human’s coat and shirt were on the floor. The elf’s fingers toyed with the patch of dark gold chest hair and teased along the trail to the buckle of his belt.

“Take them off” the warrior ordered huskily.

Anders in his haste began removing his breaches before his boots and tripped over himself trying to sit on the edge of bed to take them off. This earned a laugh from Fenris.

“Those boots are absurdly big. Don’t hurt yourself my mage”, the elf smiled.

“I must protect my delicate mage feet. You know what they about men with big feet”, Anders’ started to joke but at the elf’s confused look Anders reconsidered. “Never mind that”, he toed off the last boot, stood up, and kicked off his breaches. Ander stood very close to Fenris, gazing down as he caressed the smooth cheek with one hand and found Fenris’s hand with the other. “Come on, I want do really good things with you”, Anders said.

They moved together to the bed. Fenris laying back and Anders settling on top of him as he began exploring the elf’s body with hands, teeth and kisses. He delighted in pulling moans and hissed Tevene from Fenris. The elf had a volatile mixture of painful memories, inexperience expressing his own desires, but intrinsic daring. Despite Anders’ wild past he did not expect exactly how the night would progress but he would not have change a thing in retrospect.

Afterwards, when they lay in a sweaty mess of tangled limbs, Anders felt a contentment that went beyond his sated body. His heart sped up with the frightening and wonderful thought, _I’m in love with him_. Anders could only ever remember seeing the warrior look so relaxed in dreamless sleep but never combined with the subtle expression of happy wonder Fenris wore now.

“How are you feeling love? Was that alright?” Anders asked as he ran finger through moonlight hair and over the tip of a pointed ear.

“It was fine. No, that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed” Fenris smiled warmly. Anders felt quite satisfied with himself at that response.

“I think I have a new mission in life, keep the handsome elf smiling like this.” Anders said.

Fenris’s eyes widened. “Is that- How can you be ready so soon?” Fenris asked in confusion.

“Have you never heard of grey warden stamina? It is most definitely not a myth. It has effects on the body I would never have guessed, intense appetites of all kinds. From what I’m told it can be a source of fun and frustration in the bedroom”, Anders answered. He didn’t want to scare off his elf now so he added, “Don’t worry about it love, it will pass. Just rest here with me.” Anders caressed the elf’s smooth cheek and kissed him chastely but suddenly stiffened with a moan. A strong hand gripped him at the root. Fenris grinned at him wickedly as he began stroking him.

“I can handle your _stamina_ my mage.” Fenris purred.  

“Yes please”, Anders groaned. _I’m the luckiness mage in Thedas_ , he thought as he kissed Fenris. They then proceeded to thoroughly test the limit of a grey warden’s stamina.

Footnotes:

  1. Porpentine = porcupine in the days of Shakespeare



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! I've been my own beta so if you saw any errors or have any feedback let me know! 
> 
> This fic covered a lot of writing firsts for me: multiple chapters, romance, hand holding kisses and sexy times!
> 
> I have an idea for a small continuation but also another fenders fic idea... hmmm... decisions decisions...


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